Abide
by MsBBSue
Summary: There were new rules in this world. One had to look after oneself before all if they wished to survive. Stealing was no longer a petty crime but a way of living for those in dire situations—though nearly all were in dire times. It had never been harder to see what was right and what was wrong while one was surrounded by so much atrocity. Friend or foe; a stranger was dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

She runs; her breathing smooth and legs strong and sure. She had stopped panicking now—she had pushed those fears she had in the beginning aside. Now was not the time to be thinking about _them_ but about the others—about the people. Lassie gasps as a walker presses its mangled face against the fence she runs along. Months ago, she would have screamed—she would have hollered for help, but, now, she knew she was the only person she could count on. She was the only one who had a say as to what became of her.

Lassie can hear the men chasing from behind hollering and cursing. In another life, they were good people—hell, deep inside everyone, there was a good person. But due to this lifestyle—due to cold, raw survival—everyone was a foe. No one could be trusted. Lassie reaches the end of the fence and quickly dips under as Matt pulls open the cut wires.

As she straightens, she doesn't even look back to see if the boy is following. That was one of her rules; never look back when there was a risk behind. Looking back left one's front exposed, vulnerable even. Getting a view of what one was running from was even, at times, enough to stop a person in their tracks. She didn't want to risk it—she _couldn't_ risk it.

She furrows her brow as she hears the men behind hollering. A gun shoots and the bullet sparks on a car's hood. Lassie dips at the sudden shot, but the warning is not enough to slow her down.

She runs for as long as she can—which had improved dramatically since it all started. Before, she could barely make it three blocks; now, she could run for miles it seemed. As she leaves the small town and heads down the road, her head snaps back; there was no longer a threat.

Matt runs in a hop-skip-jump formation. His right leg was a prosthetic and a terrible fit at that. When she first found out, she believed he would slow her down. However, seeing what he was capable of now, she felt at times _she_ was the one slowing _him_ down.

Lassie smirks as she slows her pace. "Gotta love the chase," she says; her voice is near a breathless whisper. Matt narrows his eyes at her and then gives a grin back.

"Did you see their faces?" Matt asks as they slow their run down to a trot. Lassie shakes her head and Matt does an impression; his face stretching and mouth widening as his hand rise shaking. "You scared the shit out of them," he says before a laugh.

"All with an empty clip," she says haughtily as she waves the Beretta 9mm. "A li'l girl with a gun—ha! I had 'em screamin' and whinin' like, "Don't shoot me! Take what you want but let us live!" God, I love that!" She tosses her head back as Matt laughs. Truth be told, Lassie wouldn't hurt a fly. There was not a bad bone in her body, but she had one thing going for her; she was a good pretender.

As the laughter dwindles and their trot becomes a walk, Matt shakes his head faintly. He didn't like stealing—Lassie knew he didn't—but it was either take or die. "What'd you get?" he asks after a moment.

Lassie's eyes shoot up to him and then she swings her pack off one shoulder. "A couple Tylenol, antibiotics, 'n' a few mystery cans," she says as her hands rifle through the backpack. "Oh," she says as her hand feels around and pulls out something that stops Matt dead in his tracks.

"Is that—,"

"Glorious, milky-smooth chocolate?" Lassie says with a smile and slit eyes. She looks down at the folded bar and examines it. "It _looks_ like chocolate," she says with a slow nod. She brings it to her nose. "It _smells_ like chocolate," she adds as Matt's mouth waters. Her fingers gingerly pull the wrapper from the sweet treat. She breaks off a corner and pops it in her mouth. Lassie's eyes roll back. "Oh, it's definitely chocolate, buddy boy," she says with the bit tucked into her cheek.

"Give me some—,"

"You don't want this—,"

"Lassie; do you know how long it's been since I've had _anything_ like that?" he asks as he reaches for the bar.

Lassie pulls it away with a shriek. "I did the work to get it!"

"You can't eat it all!" Matt whines back and Lassie smiles.

"I _can_," she says with an arched eyebrow. "'N' I just might," she adds with a sinister smirk. Matt furrows his brow as he looks back at her.

He shakes his head and looks away as his hand runs down the back of his neck. "Man, I'll remember this—,"

"Calm down," she says as she breaks a piece off the bar and pushes it into his palm. "Ain't no use in joking with you these days. Your funny bone must've broke when you feel from the roof of that car," she says through the side of her mouth.

They had been looking for a place to stay for the night when Matt took his fall. He decided the extra height of an SUV would be enough to scope out a safe place. What he didn't put into consideration was the fact it had been raining all day and that his prosthetic couldn't feel the slick metal beneath him. As he landed on the ground, Lassie couldn't decide whether she should be concerned or laugh at his misjudgement. When he rose, she knew laughter was the only reaction he would get out of her.

"I still have that stupid bump," Matt says as he rubs the back of his head. "And it wasn't _that_ funny when it happened," he defends. "I could have been seriously injured."

"Okay, I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Robocop," Lassie says with a smirk and Matt rolls his eyes. The girl had finally become comfortable enough with what he lacked that she could poke fun at it; Matt, however, wasn't sure if he liked it or not at times.

"Where to now?" he asks as they continue down the gravel road.

Lassie shrugs as her eyes look to the fading sun. Darkness would be on them like white on rice in a short half hour. "We could chance it," she says. They never traveled at night. Strange things always seemed to come out in the blackening hours.

Matt makes a face. Suddenly, he raises his brow as if struck with an idea. "Wasn't there a barn a little further down here?"

"Sleepin' in hay ain't exactly how I expected my day would end," Lassie says with distaste.

"What do you suggest then?" Matt asks with a furrowed brow.

"Set up a nice little area in the woods… maybe have a fire 'n' cook up one of them mystery cans," Lassie says with a shrug. To her, it was simple—almost like going camping with her brothers. Lassie's lips flatten; city boys didn't think that way. If they were away from a comfortable place to rest their heads for too long they started panicking. Her brothers would have given Matt a hard time. He was too soft for their liking; too city and not enough country.

Lassie takes a deep breath. She still needed to find her family… but what were the chances they were still alive? Matt had already given up hope on his uncle and mom and he had only been separated from them for two months. Lassie was going on nearly six without even an inkling of one of them being alive.

"What do we do about the walkers?" Matt asks.

Lassie almost cringes with the name. Giving those _things_ names was one of the hardest things to do—she preferred the simple ones; lame-brains, biters, even roamers and lurkers. The name _walker_ just made them sound so… unmanageable.

"Take turns with watch—like we did our first night," _together_. They had met after the walkers first appeared. Their meeting was by chance, yet it was fate that they stayed together. Neither of them could have survived without the other.

Matt lets out a long sigh. "Who takes first watch?" he mumbles knowing he would lose the argument.

Lassie pats his back and smirks. "I'll do it, you big baby." She shakes her head. "It's a wonder your still around with all the moanin' and groanin' you do." Lassie narrows her eyes. "One of these days I might mistake you as one of 'em walkers."

Matt rolls his eyes as the two veer off the road and across the field that stands in their way of the tree line. "If I remember correctly, Lassie, you complain just as much—if not—more than I do," he says.

Lassie raises her brow and shakes her head. "I don't ever remember complainin'—,"

"Your ears must be immune to it then."

Lassie looks to her friend as the boy smirks at her with his dark eyes narrowed. She smacks Matt in the gut making him keel over. "Next time it'll be a closed fist," she warns half-heartedly.

It was a difficult time to laugh and smile. It had been months since Lassie had cracked even a grin, but Matt made it easy for her as she did for him. They were dead near the same age and even had a few common interests. When they would talk to each other, it almost seemed like the highways and fields disappeared and they were in a normal place having a normal conversation two normal teens would have. That is, until one of them brought up a threat bringing them back to their reality. Lassie runs a hand through her inch long hair and looks to the grass.

"It'll be back in no time," Matt says as he keeps his eyes on the horizon. The girl had been playing with the little hair she had left since it was first buzzed—he didn't even need to see her touching it to know she was.

Lassie nods. "My hair grows pretty fast…" She makes a face. "Maybe it's best to have it short though," she adds after a second.

"What do you mean?" Matt asks as his eyes look to her through their corners.

"I mean—," Lassie's hand drop to her side, "—before…" she gestures her hands not willing to bring up the name of _that_ hellhole, "—my hair would get caught. Mostly in burs 'n' twigs… but sometimes biters would pull at it or get pretty near to doing it." Lassie furrows her brow. As much as she liked long hair, fashion was no longer something that mattered. "Shorter is safer," she says with a nod.

Matt shakes his head as if tossing long locks in the wind as his short curls bounce with the motion. "I happen to like long hair," he says before raising his hand above his shoulder and fluffing his imaginary long locks. Lassie lets out a laugh and Matt smirks. "One day, I'll be in one of those shampoo commercials, _then_ we'll see who's laughing," he says before a chuckle.

It was a pipe dream thinking the world would one day get back to normal. Their normal was gone; it died with lost TV broadcasts and recorded radio transmissions. There was no _normal_ left; only breathing and moving. Lassie smirks at the thought of Matt having long dark curls puffed out like an eighties hair-metal band's front man.

It was okay to dream; they were allowed that even if their wake was a nightmare.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Lassie's eyes shoot open as her veins sting with ice. Four people stand around her as she lies on a metal gurney motionless. Her mouth struggles to open let alone let out a scream. She is powerless; as weak as a newborn baby. Just blinking drains her liquefied energy.

"It'll all be over in a few minutes," a voice says as her eyes shut. Suddenly, she hears a buzzing and then feels vibration on her scalp.

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><p>Lassie shoots up; her eyes wide with terror and heart pounding so hard she believes her chest will be bruised from the inside out. She takes a few shaky breaths before realizing where she is and that she is, in fact, safe. Lassie sighs and lowers her head back down to her make-shift backpack pillow.<p>

"Had another dream about it?" Matt asks in a sleepy voice from across the burning embers. Lassie's hands hold her forehead before she gives a faint nod. The boy gives a few blinks before straightening his back. It was supposed to be his turn for watch. Usually, Lassie would give him grief about falling asleep on watch… but not today.

"I wonder when they'll stop," Matt says before a soft sigh. He had witnessed her fits near every night; sometimes she would scream before she could wake, other times her eyes would open with stark fear only to calm after she came to her senses.

He knew the fear. He knew it all too well.

Lassie rolls to her side and shakes her head. She didn't like talking about it—it made her chest constrict and lungs burn for air. Her tired eyes watch the bark on one of the surrounding trees. The sun was coming up; there was no point in trying to fall back asleep.

"My uncle used to be in the army," Matt says as he readjusts his leg and the remainder. "He had this thing… post-traumatic… post-tramatic something… PTSD is what my mom called it, I think." He shrugs. "Maybe that's why you can't sleep right," he adds. His eyes watch the lump of Lassie for a reaction but he receives none. "I heard dogs can help—,"

"We can barely feed ourselves; how you think we'd be able to look after a dog?" Lassie asks as she rolls back onto her back. She shakes her head. "Not to mention, the world is kinda ruined. Unless you can find a runnin' pet store, I doubt we'll find a dog roamin' 'round—even if we did, it'd probably chew our faces off thinkin' we were one of those walkers." Her words were powerful and filled with anger; directed at who or what, Lassie was unsure.

"It's just a thought," Matt says quietly with his eyes lowering to the embers.

Lassie furrows her brow and sighs as she sits back up. Her eyes catch Matt as he fights a battle within himself; to show emotion or keep it buried down. "I'm sorry," Lassie says with a gentle voice. She shakes her head again. "It's just…" Her lips press together tightly. "If we start thinkin' like that we're not gonna survive long. We're alone," she says simply. "Whatever's wrong with us—what-whatever's wrong with other people—it don't matter no more. Everyone's just trying to keep from turning into one of those _things_." She scratches behind her ear as her short hair tickles. "We'll be fine as long as we have food 'n' water… everythin' else... everythin' else is an unattainable luxury—dogs included."

Matt watches as the girl rises from the ground and picks her bag up. She opens the zipper and tosses a mystery can at him before tossing a multi-tool his way. "If it's beans, I don't want any," she says with her lip curling slightly.

"Where are you going?" Matt asks before trying to pry the can open.

Lasses looks out towards where the sun peaks through the trees. "I was gonna check if there was a shack or trailer around. Might find more supplies for us," she says.

"You want to leave me alone?" Matt asks as if slightly offended. Lassie rolls her eyes as his lips curve into a smirk. "If you find anymore pain killers, let me know," he says.

"Your leg's still bothering you?" she asks as she takes a step to him.

"It's fine… just rubbed raw from the run," Matt says as he rubs where his leg now ended.

Lassie furrows her brow. She knew it wasn't a good idea for him to push himself. She needed him to be able to run when they needed to—whether or not he wanted to _earn his keep_. This wasn't about stroking one's ego; it was about staying alive.

"I'll try to find more paddin'," she says with a low nod.

"See you, maybe?" Matt says as she straightens. It was something she used to say to her brothers because she never knew when or if they would come visit her again. Matt had now adopted the phrase as his own.

Answering _yes_ meant there was no chance the other wouldn't come back; but they both understood the dangers of leaving alone. _Maybe_ left it open; one could only hope for the best and _maybe_ meant there was still hope.

Lassie gives him a small smile. "Maybe," she says with another nod before turning towards the trees and heading off.

As she moves through the trees, the hoodie she wears gets caught in the wiry branches. In the beginning, it wasn't so bad; a few tugs here and there and she was free—but now, the trees were so dense that it seemed she was burning more energy on ripping through branches than walking. She gives one final tug and lands herself in a small grove.

Her feet stumble over a fallen branch making her land on her knees before the opening. Lassie's eyes shoot up and survey the area; nothing out of the ordinary. With her hands pushing her back up, she catches a glimpse of a slit in her sleeve. As she gets to her feet, her hand touches the new hole; her eyes hooded and mouth unwilling to give a frown.

It was silly. It was just a sweater; cheap material only meant to live a few months before the threads loosened and made it fall apart. Lassie swallows as her throat burns. She had lost so many people; seen so much death; yet a hole in her hoodie seemed to be the breaking point. Lassie tears her eyes from the material and wipes away the building tears before they can fall.

The sweater had been one of her brothers'. He had given it to her before she left home. It was just supposed to keep her warm—but this material did more for her than that. It was comfort—a symbol of better times; of what life once was. She wore it dead near everyday even when it was too hot.

Lassie shakes her head and treads on. There was no point in dwelling on such things. Crying about a rip would solve nothing.

She pushes the sleeves up to her elbows as she wanders the grove. Flowers blossom everywhere—nothing too large, mostly small purple pedals and yellow bell-like blossoms. Lassie never really cared much for flowers. There was no use for them other than to make something pretty. The girl smirks as a memory of her eldest brother placing a chalky white flower behind her ear plays. There was no context before or after that memory; she merely remembered that moment. Lassie couldn't have been older than six at the time—but that moment stuck out to her. Maybe it was because that was the first time anyone had ever told her she was beautiful.

Lassie lets out a dry chuckle. She'd like to see that man say it now. Covered from head to toe in dirt and filth, her hair so short people had a hard time deciphering whether she was male or female—he would probably have smacked her upside the head and told her to clean herself up. To him, Lassie was his _li'l lady_.

Lassie pushes through a bush's branches. The grove was a nice area—but it left her exposed to those both living and dead. Not to mention, there was nothing there aside from grass and flowers; no food, no water, not even salvageable materials.

As she wanders through the trees, she keeps her mind on which way she travels and for how long. The last time she was lost in a woods it had cost her a life. She wasn't willing to let another person die because of her misjudgements.

With her feet suddenly hitting gravel, Lassie decides to follow the narrow road. Chances were it would lead to some kind of house or maybe even a gas station. If it were secluded enough, there might even be a chance it was still untouched by scavenging hands like her own.

Lassie kicks a rock down the road, the only thing capable of keeping her mind away from memories. It seemed everywhere she went there was always something that would trigger them—whether it was from before or after, she never really knew until it happened, though she preferred the memories from before. There was comfort in those, yet residual unavoidable sadness.

She gives the stone one last kick as her eyes hit a green rusted car. The stone shoot up and hits the trunk of the vehicle unintentionally. Lassie dips low, her heart pounding but face like stone. Quickly, she dips into the trees hoping the thin cover will be enough to hide her from whatever threat may have heard the noise.

Lassie's hand absentmindedly reaches for her pistol. It was more of a reflex than anything now; if a situation didn't feel right, the weapon on her persons was instantly readied. That was another rule; be the first ready to shoot.

The girl takes a deep breath, her eyes narrow as she hears something dragging—first on grass and then on the gravel. Her neck extends as she attempts for a better view; by the sounds of things, it was a walker or two. Lassie dips low as she catches the glimpse of a face gaunt and ripped open. It was definitely a walker; no human being could look so ghastly. Now the only question remaining was; how many.

The walker's boney body slides along the car as it makes its way further down the gravel road. Usually, they traveled in packs when they roamed. This one either died nearby, or it was ahead of the pack. Lassie takes a deep breath as it veers off the road and onto the grass towards her selected hiding stop.

Its breathing is haggard; a severely asthmatic smoker would sound like a kitten's purr compared to this. Blood drips from the corners of what's left of its mangled mouth; its milky white eyes stare at nothing as it treads further.

Lassie furrows her brow as it turns its head her way. She needed to wait a little longer before she could tell if there were more. Her weight shifts and a twig snaps beneath her feet. Lassie feels a scream bubble in the back of her throat—but her mind will not let it become vocalized.

The walker creeps towards her; its elbows bent at its waist as it stumbles slightly. It stops right before her—only a few leaves and branches between them. Its face presses through the leaves and Lassie can wait no longer.

She holds the Beretta 9mm by the barrel and swings the grip in the walker's face. It falls back; not dead, only pissed off. As it lets out a growl, Lassie jumps out of the brush and straddles it. One hand holds its leather neck down as her other continuously bashes its face in with the gun until nothing but a mush of red jelly and sallow skin is left.

For a moment, Lassie is not here; she is above the situation looking down as if she were a bird in the sky. It was always like that when she killed them; it was like her mind couldn't process the events and just dipped out and let her body go on autopilot. As she comes back, her eyes look down at the walker and then to her gun. The Beretta 9mm would need a good cleaning after this.

As she takes a breath, she rises from the body and looks back the way it came from. It was alone. The person it once was must have died in or around the rusted car. Lassie tucks the gun back into her belt as her nose scrunches with the walker's stench.

In the beginning, walkers had the bittersweet scent of death; the same smell an elderly man let off days before he met his maker. Now, due to rotting and starvation, they smelt foul—carcasses that had been sitting in the sun for too long mixed with excrement found only in sewers. Most times, they smelt worse than they looked; their stench was powerful enough to gag a maggot and send a fly into distress.

Lassie makes a face of distaste as the scent sticks in her nose. She makes her way back up the gravel road; stopping as her eyes peer into the abandoned car's window only to see nothing but empty boxes. She sucks her teeth. Either the owner took everything or someone else had the same idea Lassie had. Her chin lowers as she stands at the car's side.

There were two options at this point. She could keep going; maybe there would be something at the end of the road—maybe not—or she could head back to Matt and call it a lost cause. Though Lassie's head told her to go back, her gut told her to keep going. She lets out a sigh and continues on the gravel road. The battle between the two was always won by her gut. Lassie was too stubborn to let anything else win—even when the other option was more logical.

It was her weakness; her bane.

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><p><strong>Thank you guest reviewer I Love Fanfics. I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you continue to read on as the story progresses :)<strong>

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Making her way around the bend, a smile pulls at Lassie's usual composed face. A soft chuckle releases from her as she see the modest cabin; one and a half stories, white chipped siding, a window with a long vertical crack in the glass to the right of the main entrance, a weed infested flowerbed up front, and a stoop before the pine door.

She slowly makes her way around the cabin, not willing to get too excited before knowing exactly what she was dealing with—or who she may be dealing with. As she reaches behind the structure, she sees the white brick of a chimney and nearly jumps out of her skin. It had been so long since they stayed in a house that had a source of heat little long a fireplace. If it proved to not be cemented in, it would be nice to have warmth while they slept _indoors_ for a change.

As Lassie turns away from the cabin and looks out towards the yard, her heart sinks. A tire sways sadly in the cooling late summer breeze. The girl's lips flatten into a thin line. Chances were the owners had abandoned this place and left for the cities when hell was beginning to rise. Lassie shakes her head as she turns away. Unless they believed the country was safer.

Lassie's hand rises and runs through her cropped hair and slides onto the back of her neck as she takes in a deep breath. She could go into the cabin… but there was a chance something else was in there too. She furrows her brow. Lassie never went into places without a spotter—even if that spotter had only one leg. She takes another breath and chews her lip. It was another of her many rules; in a new environment, the buddy system was to be live and active.

Lassie's hand drops to her side as she lets out a loud frustrated sigh. She couldn't break her own rules—there had to be something that acted as a law in this world. She _needed_ the rules; they provided organization in a time when chaos was more than evident.

The girl lowers her chin and begins back the way she came. Whether she liked it or not, there were moments—such as entering unknown territory—where she would need someone else. As much as she hated it, Lassie couldn't always rely on herself. A misjudged step, a noise unheard by her ears, movement undetected by her own eyes—a second body could pick up on things that she may have overlooked or missed entirely. _That_ was why she needed Matt. It wasn't because of the companionship or even because he was the closest thing to a friend she had; he was a second pair of senses that she could use to her advantage in exchange for her loyalty.

The girl barely reacts as she passes the mashed faced walker from earlier. She learnt long ago that showing fear only made things worse; whether it was fear of a walker or a lashing from an extension-chord given by her father. Either way, fear accomplished nothing; a walker was still going to eat her, just as her drunken father would still beat her. Tears, screaming—none of it stopped the inevitable, but running prolonged it… maybe it even helped.

Lassie stuffs her hands into the hoodie's front pocket. Running was how she ended up separated from her family in the first place. It was a few months before the great and terrible decline of the human race; she had just gotten home from school. Her father was drunk off hooch as per usual and wanted her to do something. Lassie couldn't remember what it was—a chore, maybe a favour; it didn't matter. When she refused, the man fumed with anger. He pushed her against the wall and barked in her face incoherent words about respecting her elders. Lassie showed little emotion; she had managed to leave her body just as she did when it came to attacking walkers.

She didn't feel him throw her to the floor of the trailer. She didn't even feel the slap he sent her way. It must have hurt though, because tears dampened her cheeks. When he brought out the extension-chord, Lassie knew the only way she would be leaving the situation was with welts running up and down her back and legs. She was right. The only time he stopped was when he realized his cup was empty. As he left to refill it, Lassie took the chance; she shot out the door like a bullet and never looked back.

Lassie pushes through the trees and bushes and she furrows her brow. A prosthetic leg sits next to the fire pit, but no Matt. She steps back into the safety of the thick bush. If he had gone somewhere, why would he leave his leg behind?

Lassie's heart throbs in the back of her throat with panic. She purses her lips together and lets out a high short lived whistle and waits. Her eyes look around the camp wildly for any sign of a struggle; ruffled leaves, kicked up dirt—anything.

Finally, a whistle sounds and Lassie lets out the breath she's been holding.

"I wasn't sure," Matt says as he hops his way out from behind a tree.

Lassie shakes her head as she steps out of her own hiding place. "How far did you think you'd get without your leg?" she asks with a smirk.

Matt lowers himself to the ground with the aid of Lassie. He grips the prosthetic and shrugs. "It would've taken me too long to try to get it back on…" He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "I guess there's no good time to have it off," he adds with slight bitterness. The boy was still figuring out his new body's advantages and disadvantages. At times the disadvantages seemed more than what he could handle. "Did you find anything?" Matt asks as he looks up at the girl.

"A car," she says softly as her eyes look to the trees.

"Anything in it?" he asks.

Lassie shakes her head. "Empty boxes…" Her brow furrows. "There was also a cabin," she adds. Matt nods. "I didn't go in, but it looked okay," she says. "It might be a nice alternative to sleeping on the ground outside or in a barn."

Matt nods again. His stump hurt; he took the prosthetic off because with the swelling of what remained of his leg couldn't stand the pressure of even a butterfly kiss on the raw skin. There was no way he would be able to make the journey—no matter how far—but he couldn't tell Lassie that. Matt didn't want to be the reason they slept on dirt for another cold night.

"Are you up for it?"

His dark eyes shoot up to Lassie as she looks down at him gently. Matt gives her a quick grin before his eyes dart to the ground. He hears Lassie lower herself beside him and he turns his head away slightly. "Yeah," he nearly whispers.

"You hesitated," she says. Lassie shakes her head. "You know how I feel about hesitation, Matt."

"I'm sorry," Matt says quietly as he pulls his cargo shorts' leg up. Lassie winces at the swollen skin and suddenly feels her words came across too harsh. The stump was a deep red; no question needed about infection as yellowed puss sits where the stitches keep the skin pulled over.

"I should've taken the chair instead," Lassie says with a shake of her head.

Matt winces as he wraps the stained tensor bandage around his stump. "It was my call… I was thinking too far ahead… not about my current situation." A hiss escapes his lips as he eases the stump into the above the knee prosthetic. They had the choice of either a wheelchair or the prosthetic after running into a man looking for a few favours to be done. How the person managed to gain both items was unimportant. All Matt wanted was a chance to toss his crutches away; he wanted to _walk_ again.

"Take it off," Lassie says with a gentle tug on his arm. Matt furrows his brow. "It needs to breath… dry it out for a few hours." Lassie watches as the boy gingerly begins removing the prosthetic and dressing.

"What about the cabin?" he asks.

Lassie chews her lip for a second before tearing her eyes from the remains of his leg. "You can lean on me—,"

"Not again," Matt says with a stern shake of his head. "It's too much work for you—,"

"We're not runnin'," Lassie says with her brows raised. "We go at a steady pace. No need to burn more energy than needed." She takes a deep breath. "If one of us gets tired, we stop and take a break. We've got all the time in the world."

Matt makes a face and rolls his eyes. "You mean until sundown."

Lassie gives a smirk and rises with his prosthetic in her hand. "It's not that far," she says. "Come on—," her free hand reaches down at him, "—we're burning daylight anyway," she says. Matt takes her hand and she pulls him up. "Besides, there just might be a bed in there," she adds making him scoff.

Matt grunts as they take a step; his arm around Lassie's shoulders as hers holds his waist. "That'd be nice," he says with grin. "I'm calling it," he adds making Lassie make a face of distaste.

"I don't think so," she says with a shake of her head as she pushes away branches from their path. "I did the work." Matt smiles.

As they trek through the trees, Lassie keeps her eyes ahead. She can feel her heartbeat climb as panic settles in. There was no reason for the cause; Matt and she were safe. Lassie takes a deep breath and Matt turns his head to her only to have Lassie give a reassuring smile. The last time she had done this with him they had been running from their hell. They ran through the field like madmen—as if their freedom could be taken away… only because it could have been.

Matt was crying because the pain was too much and Lassie was doing her best to keep them going—it was horrible. Every move she made Matt hollered out in pain. Out of fear, Lassie clamped her hand over his mouth to silence him. She forced him to keep going even when she knew they were more than safe.

Lassie takes another breath and releases it with a bit of a shake. While she ran with him glued to her hip, all she could keep her mind on was getting out—to be able to see the daylight and not have to worry about what kind of sick thing the _doctor_ had come up with for them. Her mind wouldn't go towards _if_ they got caught because if they did there was no telling what their tomorrow would look like.

"I can put it back on," Matt says as he feels Lassie's muscle stiffen with anxiety.

Lassie keeps her eyes ahead and she give a weak shake of her head. "I'm fine," she says quietly.

He furrows his brow. "You're not fine… look at you," he says. Lassie continues to move forward and Matt stays in his spot making Lassie stumble slightly with the weight. "You need a break—,"

"No, I don't," Lassie says. She stares back at him and gives a long blink as he stays his ground. "We both know I can carry your weight, Matt," she says as her hand falls from his waist.

The boy takes a deep breath and looks to the ground. "_I_ need a break," he says firmly.

"No you don't," Lassie says.

Matt arches an eyebrow and narrows his eyes. "How would you know?"

"You wouldn't have said anythin'—,"

"I'm saying something now," he says with his eyes staring back at her. Lassie watches him with annoyance as he lowers himself gingerly to the leafy ground. Matt shakes his head. "You can't keep doing this, man," he says on a breath. "If you need to talk, spit it out. This… locking it up and throwing away the key thing isn't working." Matt reclines himself back. "We've both been through some messed up shit… there's no way things will ever be the same… but talking could help."

"I don't need to talk 'bout nothin'," Lassie says passively as her eyes stare out into the trees. They were a few feet from the grove; from there they would hit the road and then the car and then the cabin. Talking wasn't going to get them there; action—movement—would.

"Fine," Matt says with a cool nod. "I want to talk about it."

His jaw clenches as he turns his head slightly making the muscles in his neck strain. "It sucked when he took my leg," Matt says. The muscles relax and he scoffs. "Sucked even more to see it on that biter," he adds with a dark chuckle as if it were some kind of joke. "I thought I was going to die in there," Matt says quietly. "Never thought I'd be sitting out here in the middle of Butt-Fuck-Nowhere with some girl hell-bent on surviving." Lassie lowers her chin. "Thank God one of us is," he adds with a smirk.

Matt shakes his head again and the smirk is gone. "Before he brought you in, I thought I was the only one." He furrows his brow as Lassie stares down at him. "I was kind of glad see someone else…" Lassie looks away. "Not because there was another person he could make scream bloody murder… but… because I knew I wasn't alone."

Lassie turns away as she tries to keep every thought ever catalogued of that place away. She lowers her eyes to her feet and crosses her arms.

"What he did to us, Lassie… nobody should ever have to go through," Matt says as his eyes watch the back of her head. "There is no excuse for it—apocalypse or not—nothing justifies his actions." He takes a breath as Lassie wipes her nose. It was painful—for both of them—but Lassie didn't want him to know it hurt. She didn't want him to see her as weak—she was his protector. She _needed_ to be strong.

"When we broke out, I couldn't believe we were alive." He lowers his head. "I didn't want to be alive… not in a world where a man can cut off legs and sew them onto the dead—not where a man can test on people like they're lab-rats." Matt scoffs. "Lab-rats were probably treated better than we were." Matt chews his lip for a moment as Lassie keeps her back to him. "I'll be indebt to you until the day I die, Lassie. You got me out… but you're still in there. Let me help _you_ get out—"

"Can we stop now?" Lassie asks as she turns back to him. Matt furrows his brow and draws his chin back. "You're break's done. We're losin' daylight," she says coldly before reaching a hand down to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

**A nice long chapter for those of you who waited this ungodly amount of time.**

**My apologies. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

"Where am I?" Lassie calls out to a figure. It stands with its back to her; a light hanging from the ceiling as its shadow stretches across her body. Lassie takes a nervous breath as moans and groans from walkers sound from all directions. Her eyes see nothing but the light and the silhouette of the man ahead of her as he stoops over a metal gurney.

"This will all be over shortly," he says in a soothing voice. Something about it makes Lassie's stomach churn and skin crawl.

Suddenly, the rev of a chainsaw sounds and Lassie attempts to cover her ears but her wrists won't budge under the chains that brace them above her head. Her mouth stretches open for a scream and she is sure her voice is gone as all she hears is the chainsaw's rev as it bites into whatever lies on the gurney before the man.

Blood sprits into the air to the rhythm of the revving and all Lassie can hear is the deep rattling growl of the chainsaw swallowing horrible screams and muffled hollers. As the figure straightens, Lassie shakes her head in vile disgust. The man drops the chainsaw and lifts something from the gurney as sobs sound from his direction. As Lassie's eyes focus on the thing he lifts, she turns her head away and dry heaves.

A leg bends lifelessly in his hands as he lets out a chuckle over the crying.

"I told you it would all be over shortly," he whispers patronizingly.

* * *

><p>Lassie's eyes shoot open as hands shake her violently. She stiffens and then relaxes as her eyes adjust and see Matt before her.<p>

"Sorry," she whispers as the fire crackles in the hearth. The cabin was far from untouched; anything capable of being scavenged was gone—all that remained was the furniture and a few blankets.

"You were screaming," Matt says as he turns his back to the flames. Lassie brings her hood over her head as she sits up. The boy takes a deep breath and lowers his chin as his belly growls. "I wish there was food in here," he says.

Lassie keeps her eyes on the fire. Matt had already eaten a can that day—that was more than she could say she ate. In the morning she would let him open another—but two in one day was asking for starvation.

"I'm sorry for that too," she says. It was her idea to stay at the cabin rather than look for supplies. It was her fault they were hungry.

"Don't be," Matt says with his cheek pinched up. "We have blankets and a door that locks… haven't had one of those in a dog's age."

"It's not food—,"

"It's security," Matt says with a furrowed brow. He takes a deep breath and tosses in another leg from a chair into the fireplace. "It's kind of nice not having to stay awake in case a walker comes creeping around," he says before a shrug. "It's almost like a sleepover," he adds with a bit of a smile.

"A sleepover with the livin' dead outside," Lassie says with an eyebrow arched and her nose curled.

"If we want to stay up late and watch scary movies, all we have to do is look out the window," he says before a pause. Lassie's eyebrows invert as she looks back at him. Suddenly, the two laugh.

As the short lived laughter ceases, Lassie's eyes look to the walls as their shadows dance and stretch across the space. She takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. She was content; she nearly _felt_ safe.

Matt lets out a stifled chuckles and Lassie's eyes shoot to him. After a moment, Matt nods his head and attempts to let her in on what his chuckling was about. "Back home, I had this friend—Miles his name was… the neighbours used to call us the M&Ms… anyway, we used to do all kinds of stupid things together." He pauses for a second and shakes his head. "He would have loved this place," he says quietly.

Lassie watches him for a moment. The boy had never spoken a word about _before_ unless it was of or relating to his mother or uncle.

"Miles and I were having a sleepover one time," he continues. "It was in his grandma's pool house." Matt's eyes dart to Lassie. "It was a pretty creepy place at night—cobwebs and shit everywhere. The old lady didn't have much of a use for the place and kind of just let it go to waste. We thought it was haunted so, obviously, we stayed the night," he adds with a laugh. "Every noise we heard our eyes would shoot open and our hearts would be pounding. If he heard a noise and I was asleep, he'd wake me… and I did the same." He shakes his head. "We had to be up for seven in the morning… we fell asleep when the sun started to rise." Lassie grins. "Miles liked creepy places… w-we both did." Matt's smirk slowly fades as his mind wanders back into the present.

Lassie takes a quick breath as his demeanour changes. It was supposed to be a happy memory—not something that made his soul darken. "When I was about eleven or twelve, I heard my brother Daryl talkin' about some graveyard just outside of town. He said somethin' about how ghosts would come out on the night before Halloween." Lassie lets out a sigh as she watches the fire's flames. "After a day or two, I asked if I could go with him. He said no.

"I didn't know it was just gonna be him and his stupid buddies drinkin' and fightin' all night; I just wanted to see a ghost." Lassie reclines herself back and takes a deep breath. "After I begged him for three days, he finally agreed to take me with him. When the night came, we pulled up into the cemetery and he and his buddies started unloadin' their coolers and lawn chairs." She smirks as Matt furrows his brow. "I guess it's a country thing… beer and lawn chairs kind of go hand in hand when it comes to a night of drinkin'," she says as a bitter taste sits on her tongue.

"Anyway, I was getting madder and madder as the night went on. All Daryl was doin' was talking to his buddies and wrestlin'. He never even tried to look for a ghost with me—not even once," she says. "When it was time to leave, Daryl asked me to go grab his cooler." Lassie licks her lips as a grin pulls at them. Her eyes shoot to Matt as animation lights her face. "It was by this huge gravestone in the blackest part of the cemetery. I was so scared… I realized at that moment I didn't actually wanna see a ghost… I just liked the idea."

"Did you see anything?" Matt asks as Lassie's eyes lower.

She gives a grin. "When I reached for the cooler, something grabbed my hand. I screamed and suddenly I was on the ground clawing at whatever was on top of me." Matt's eyes widen and Lassie lets out a laugh. "Daryl and his buddies came stumblin' to where I was and a flashlight shot down at me. The face I saw wasn't a ghost—," she rolls her eyes, "—it was my other brother Merle." Matt hums a chuckle. "Him and Daryl had planned the whole thing."

"Holy," Matt says with a smirk.

Lassie shakes her head with a smile. "I almost pissed myself I was so scared… they were pretty proud of themselves that night." She feels the smile dissipate after a moment. She had never shared that story with anyone—she never had anyone to share it with before this moment.

"That's awesome," Matt says with a faint nod. "Your brothers sound like cool guys."

A sinking fills her belly as she watches the fire. "Yeah," she says as her own soul dampens. "They are."

Matt takes in a deep breath and lets out a hum as he lowers his back onto the floor. "So…" Lassie furrows her brow at the tone he uses. Something about it made it seem like the words following weren't going to be as light as she preferred things to be. "Where do you think your family is?" Matt asks.

"Somewhere safe," she says after a moment. Lassie shakes her head. "I'm not stupid," she adds. "I know some of them probably didn't make it." Matt watches her for a moment before bringing his hands under the back of his head for cushion. "I know my dad's probably dead…"

Matt's brow furrows deeply. "Why do you say that? Wasn't he the one who taught you all this… survival crap?"

Lassie nods before chewing her lip. "He was an alcoholic…"

"Oh… heavy…"

"Yeah," Lassie says before flashing a grin. "I mean," she adds with a sigh, "Merle and Daryl weren't really much better. Merle was always in and out of jail because of drugs and Daryl was always in the wrong place at the wrong time." Lassie takes a breath. "My mom was kinda the only _normal_ one of the bunch—but even she had her issues."

Matt's head bounces in a nod as silence envelopes them. "What was her problem?" he finally asks.

"She was addicted to my daddy," Lassie says. She lowers her chin and watches the fire for a moment. "He wasn't a very good man," she nearly whispers. "My mom couldn't see that…"

Matt nods his head shallowly and presses his lips together. It was his turn to apologize now. "I'm sorry, Lassie," he says.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for." The girl brushes a hand through her cropped hair. "Just the luck of the draw, you know? You can't choose your family just like you can't choose what colour the sky is or how hot the day's gonna be." Matt nods again, his mouth pinched in discomfort of not knowing what to say next. Suddenly, Lassie twists her head in his direction and waves a finger. "And don't go feeling sorry for me, Matt. Ain't nothing to be sorry for," she repeats.

Matt rolls his eyes. "Me feeling sorry for you?" he asks with a chief grin on his lips. "You're telling a gimp to not feel sorry for _you_?" He lets out a laugh as Lassie smirks. "Luck of the draw… yeah…" Matt takes in a long breath. "We're both kind of wounded… the wounded don't know sympathy. We know empathy."

Lassie's hands wrap around her ankles where she can feel the scars left from her father mindlessly. "We're not wounded," she says softly. "We're survivors…"

"Well, this survivor's going to bed," Matt says with a tired breath.

"Goodnight," Lassie says with her eyes back on the fire.

"Goodnight," Matt says before crawling to his nest of couch cushions and blankets.

* * *

><p>Lassie walks down the old road; her black and white sneakers kick up the gravel with each step. Had it not been for the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she probably would have stopped by now—maybe even thought about what she was doing and decide she should just go back home… that's what she did every other time. But today was different. Today she had reached her threshold. Every ten feet or so, she looks over her sun kissed shoulder in case <em>he<em> might be following. Really, there were three people she was watching for, but the main man—her father—was one she did not want to see; not for a very long time, at least.

She winces as her back stings with the sweat beading on it. He used an extension chord this time. Five good whips and Lassie was in tears screaming, "Daddy, stop!" When he realized his glass was empty, he left to pour another potent cup of hooch only to come back to an empty room.

Lassie quickly veers off the road as she hears a truck coming up from the way she came. She crouches in the ditch and watches. The truck is a faded rusted red; definitely not someone's she recognizes.

As the truck approaches, she straightens and sticks her thumb out. She had seen it done in the movies so often—the results had to be true. The driver was almost obligated to stop and give her a ride. A smirk pulls at her lips as the truck slows down and veers to the shoulder. Lassie takes a deep breath and watches the vehicle for a moment. She had never hitchhiked before; caution would be the best approach.

She timidly steps towards the truck's driver side as the man rolls down his window. Lassie pushes her shoulder length hair back and gently leans on the low truck's door and looks back down the highway for a moment.

"Gas, ass, or grass—," her dark eyes look to the driver and, suddenly, the man straightens in his seat. "Holy shit, I know you," he says with a smirk. "You're the Dixon girl," he says and she gives him a quick and meaningless smile. She could always pull off a smile; even when she didn't feel like smiling. "What're you doin' so far from home, kid?" he asks. "Shouldn't you be with mamma or dad?"

Lassie sweeps her bangs from her eyes and shakes her head. "Mamma's out right now and daddy's busy with the home brewery," she lies with that sweet smile.

She didn't know the man, but that didn't mean her father didn't. "Just out for a walk," she says as her hands leave the truck's window and she stands straight. "Thought I'd hitch a ride to town," she adds. Lassie gives a small frown. "Ain't nobody comin' down this way for a long while." Her eyes go back to the man as if in hopes he will give her a ride away rather than back.

"How long you been walkin', girl?" the driver asks as he readjusts his baseball cap.

She shrugs. "'Bout an hour… maybe two," she says.

The man furrows his brow for a quick second and then shrugs. "Why don't you hop in?" he asks. "I can take you to town," he adds. "Your brothers should be at my place in a few hours—that gives you plenty of time to spend with your friends before you gotta go back home—,"

"I ain't _gonin_' back home," she says with an eyebrow arched. The man didn't know her father; he was a friend—no, a client—of her brothers'.

The man shrugs. "That ain't none of my business… but I doubt your brothers'll let you stay out for too long." He smirks as he turns his head back to her. "They know what kind of things can happen to a pretty little girl. Do you?"

Lassie shrugs, her eyes looking back down the road. "It's a good thing I ain't pretty," she says through the side of her mouth and the man lets out a chuckle before shaking his head. She stands in silence for a minute as the man eyes her up; slowly looking up her awkward legs and curving hip; they settle on her blossoming chest and then up to her shoulders and neck until they settle back on her face.

"Come on," he says with a nod. "I'll drive you wherever you want. A girl like you shouldn't be out here alone," he adds. Lassie watches him for a moment; her head was telling her something wasn't right, but her gut told her she needed to get as far away as she could. "I don't bite," the man says with another chuckle.

Lassie's eyes shoot back down the road and then to the man. He was her getaway. Slowly, she walks around the truck and enters the passenger side. As she brings the seatbelt across her, the man takes the belt with a smirk. "It's touchy," he says as he fiddles with the buckle before locking the belt in place. Lassie smiles nervously and gives a nod before looking out the window. Something about him made her stomach churn, however the threat of the whooping she'd get if she went back home made her stay in the truck.

The drive only takes fifteen minutes; fifteen minutes of the man's side glances and awkward smirks; fifteen minutes of Lassie asking herself what if's.

As they pull into a driveway, Lassie reaches for the buckle but the man quickly reaches over her. With a gasp, she looks at him and he smirks as he undoes her seatbelt for her. She knew fear—but this kind was different. It was a calm fear—the kind that makes one's heart flutter and muscles tense at the drop of a hat.

Lassie watches as the man then gets out of the truck. After a quick second of calming her nerves, she gets out.

"Just head a few blocks that way—," the man points his finger, "—and you should be right by the library," he says.

"I ain't here to read books," Lassie spits. She relaxes her furrowed brow and shifts her feet awkwardly. "Thank you for the ride, sir," she says remembering the manners her mother taught her.

"Was good company—especially when the company is such well mannered," he says with a nod of his head. "Nice to be able to put a face to the name I hear so much of," he adds. The man turns away, takes a step towards his house and then stops. "Y' know," he says as he turns back to see Lassie watching him. "I've got an extra mattress in the house."

The girl looks to him with a furrowed brow as her fair hair falls into her eyes. "If you need a place to stay, it's better than sleepin' on the streets."

Lassie stands idly for a moment as she thinks. None of the kids from her school would offer such a thing—they didn't like _rednecks_ hanging around. "Okay," she says with an uncertain nod.

The man smiles and gestures his hand for her to follow as he climbs up the stoop and reaches into his pockets for a key. Slowly, Lassie follows; when the door opens, he pushes and holds it for her to enter.

Lassie's nose curls up at the stench she is immediately greeted with upon entrance. Something was rotting in the house—whether it was in the kitchen or living room, she was unsure. There was also the distinct smell of something Lassie couldn't quite put her finger on… something like plastic burning—toxic and cruel to the nose.

"It ain't the prettiest place, but it's home," the man says as he closes the door. "Livin' room's right there," he says as he points his figure to a door arch that leads to a cluttered room. "Kitchen's just down the hall here—and the bathroom is right before it. You can't miss it," he says. He removes his cap and rubs his head making the curls spring out. "The extra mattress is hangin' back on the wall in there," he says as he points to the living room. "I got a pillow and blanket you can have, if you want." Lassie nods. It didn't feel right here—it made her stomach knot and vision vibrate worse than it did when her father was drunk.

"Go have a seat," the man says. "I'll get you a beer," he says with a smile.

Lassie swallows back a scream that's been building since the drive and slowly enters the cluttered living room. Her hand rubs one of the cushions on the couch and she lowers to the spot.

There were pizza boxes everywhere—cockroaches stumbling around with full bellies. Lassie rises from the couch as a mouse races beneath the coffee table. She takes a deep breath and sits back down again.

"Here you go," he says as he passes the opened beer to her.

Lassie looks at the bottle for a moment before sniffing it. She had never had beer before—never touched alcohol of any kind except for that one time Merle offered her a sip of hooch. Not only did it taste bad, but Merle got angry she even took the offer. He told her booze was for losers and that she couldn't have any if she wanted to get anywhere in life.

Lassie takes a sip of the beer and makes a face. It wasn't _that_ bad.

"First time drinkin'?" the man asks with a chuckle as he sits with his knee to his chest on a cushioned chair. She nods her head as she looks to the dark box television.

"Silly lil' thing, ain't it?" he asks as he looks to the T.V. "Nowadays, they come in paper thin and are as big as half the wall," he adds with a laugh. "You got one of 'em?"

Lassie shakes her head. "Ours still has bunny ears," she says after lowering her eyes to the beer bottle in her hands. "Why are my brothers comin' here?" she asks before taking another sip.

The man shrugs. "They wanted to hang out," he says but Lassie knows it's a lie.

After a few moment of silence, Lassie furrows her brow; her head spins as her vision seems to fog up like she is wearing glasses. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"You okay there, Lassie?" she hears the strange man ask. A hand rests on her shoulder and she shakes her head.

"I wanna go home," she moans as her chin drops to her chest.

"Now, now," the man says as his weight pulls down the cushion beside her, "you ain't goin' home yet. You just got here—," four quick knocks on the door sound and the man turns quickly, his hand leaving her shoulder.

He cautiously pulls back the windows curtain and turns back cringing. "Shit," he spits. He stands for a moment as still as a statue and then startles as the door is knocked again.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


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